Page 97 of Cowboy Heat

Red rims Kissy’s eyes. She’s been holding back tears.

I hate that she feels like she has to.

“I promise you it’s easy.”

I let her hand go and take her chin instead. Slowly, carefully, I hold her there while closing the space between us.

My height sitting down works to perfection.

Kissing Kissy is easy too.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

Kissy

He’s warm,and I’m warm, and the world is all kinds of quiet.

A quiet that I press into a few seconds after I realize that Beau Montgomery went and kissed me while I was fumbling to tell him how much it means to me that he’s still hanging around.

It’s a great kiss. Not at all like the one I planted on him quick the day before in his kitchen—my goodness it feels like a lifetime ago—because this one has legs.

This one’s lasting.

Beau’s hand on my chin skims along my cheek and tucks into my hair. I’m forward momentum as his legs spread apart so I can fit between his thighs. He’s hurt and even though our mouths are together, I’m not about to go hurting him more.

I place my hands soft as feathers on his shoulders.

There’s power in the muscle beneath my palms.

There’s a sturdiness that makes me shudder in the best way.

Beau goes from using his hand to pull me in to bracing that arm behind my back.

One second, I’m almost crying about my sad life, and in the next, I’m sidled to a man I was dragging across the floor less than an hour ago.

Surprising times call for surprising moves.

Beau’s tongue slips in between my lips and the kiss goes from good to making my knees weak. I return the deepening of the kiss with just as much zest.

My nipples harden beneath my bra, south of my waistline starts swirling. I know I’m covered in dirty from grave digging, sweat too, but my body lets me know that it wants to be coveringhim.

Beau breaks the kiss just to turn more into a new one. His hand goes from my hair to sliding down my back.

Then his hand and arm are going right back up. This time beneath my shirt.

The added warmth?

The closeness?

My hands abandon my perch on his shoulders and run up his neck and into his hair.

He tastes like something.

I don’t know what it is, but it’s good and nice, and I wonder how I can maneuver on top of him while also putting down my back seats.

He’s a big guy, but I’m quick. I think I can get something to work.

My phone decides to interject in a rude, vibrating fashion.